


Versus

by DeepSeaChallenger



Category: Assassin's Creed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-25 23:29:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4980901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeepSeaChallenger/pseuds/DeepSeaChallenger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Animus has an extra feature; pitting Assassins and Templars against each other to run observations on who would win in a fight between two ancestors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ezio V.S Altaïr

**Author's Note:**

> I've been meaning to do this, and so far haven't found any stories like this other than polls about who people think would win. More characters will be added as they fight in chapters.

Desmond's pretty bored. He flips through the Animus desktop, not sure what he wants to do, just certain that he doesn't want to go through Connor's memories anymore.  
"You know, there's this new program I've found hidden in the files about fighting," Rebecca's voice echoes in his ears.  
"Fighting?"  
"Well, you pick two people and it sets up a battle between the two." Shaun pipes up. Desmond scans the desktop again, then nods.  
"Yeah, sure. How do you access it?"  
"Manually. Give me a second.... There. Should be a window popping up in front of you. The environment's set to a forest, though. Seems to be the only available option for now."  
"I see it- you know, it could be so no one has an advantage. Like, if we pitted Edward against Jacob on a ship, Edward would have more experiance with the environment and he'd win...Who should we pick?"  
"Not sure about you two, but I want to see a battle between Ezio and Altaïr." Shaun sounds like he's trying to persuade them. Desmond suprises himself by agreeing.  
"Alright, Ezio and Altaïr first. Desmond, be careful. You can enter their bodies as they fight, but you can't control their actions."  
"So, wait, how does this work? How do they percieve each other?"  
"Stop asking questions. If you want to know, step into their bodies." Shaun says, exasperated.  
Desmond shrugs mentally. "Alright, fine, jeez."

****  
The forest is quiet and cool.  
Ezio treads over fallen leaves, his hand on his sword. He's not to keen on being in dark places, but he's been in worse. At least it's a full moon.  
A rustle of movement catches his attention and he looks up, just in time to see a flash of white and red.  
He drops to his feet, rolling to the left, and yanks his sword out as he stands again, whirling to face his enemy.  
Altaïr is crouched on the ground, his Hidden Blade out. His beaked hood does a good job of covering his face, but Ezio can still see the glint of hazel eyes.  
Ezio steps back and hold out his sword. He is respectful of Altaïr's abilities, but his are better. Surely.  
Altaïr slowly draws himself to his full height and readies himself, sheathing his Hidden Blade and removing his sword.  
Then they're fighting.  
It's not easy. Ezio finds himself on the defensive, but he refuses to step back. If he lets Altaïr drive him back, at some point his defence will slip, and he'll be defeated.  
He grits his teeth. Something has to be done. On the next attack, he lifts his sword higher at the right moment, and their blades are locked together.  
Well, technically locked.  
He leans forward, trying to overcome Altaïr, but his enemy is pushing back.  
Their faces inches apart, Ezio snarls at him.  
Altaïr snarls at him back, and with a final heave, sends Ezio several feet back, stumbling over a root. He lands on his back, then shouts and rolls to the side.  
Altaïr's blade, aimed for his head, embeds itself in the ground.  
Altaïr curses and glances at him, trying to pull the sword out of the sod.  
It isn't right to kill someone who can't defend themselves.  
At least with their sword.  
Ezio throws aside his own and leaps forward, flicking his wrist to engage the Hidden Blade.  
Altaïr realizes what he's doing and barely jumps away in time for the Blade to arch through the air, where his neck would have been. He sheaths his own, and Ezio back up a few paces, his hands up.  
They circle each other for a few moments, eyes locked.  
Ezio is tempted to lunge forward, but he remembers what Mario taught him. Sometimes it's best to let his opponant attack first, and finish him from there.  
No one said he couldn't have a little fun.  
"Come on, what are you waiting for?"  
Altaïr falls for it and attacks, swinging his Hidden Blade up and at Ezio's face.  
No one goes directly for the face with a Hidden Blade. Ezio takes a chance; it is most likely a feign, and he tenses his body to protect his chest.  
Sure enough, Altaïr pulls down mid-cut, and Ezio stops it. Altaïr is around his age, thirty, and his fighting turns more reckless the angrier he is, but Ezio doesn't let that happen to himself. The angrier he is, the more focused and clear his thoughts become.  
He launches on the offensive, bringing his fist up to connect with Altaïr's jaw.  
Altaïr jumps back, his eyes blazing with fury.  
Ezio readies himself again. This will not be easy.  
\---  
Altaïr's jaw aches and he clenches his teeth. He'll have to be quicker than Ezio.  
Which is the problem; it doesn't seem like he can be.  
He decides to wait for Ezio's next attack, hunching his shoulders and bringing his fists up near his face. The Blades glint in the moonlight- he doesn't need all ten fingers to beat his enemy.  
Ezio shifts his weight to his right foot, and Altaïr tenses a second before he is attacked.  
He doesn't think, just acts, and finds himself equally on the defence and attack.  
Over the course of five minutes, they both recieve a multitude of small cuts and bruises. Altaïr feels his strength beginning to flag, and so does Ezio.  
Maybe they'll have to call it a draw. It won't do for both of them to drop to the ground of exhaustion next to each other.  
He grits his teeth and bears down against Ezio, shifting from defence to attack.  
He'll have to be careful, though. Ezio is a sly man, and fights with a more elegant style than Altaïr. Less brute force, more tricks.  
Maybe he can borrow some of that.  
He chooses when to feign exhaustion and finally backs up, holding his arms sloppily up near his face. He coughs for effect and feels a trickle of sweat roll down his brow. Surely Ezio will fall for it, although he hasn't fallen for any other tricks yet.  
He does.  
Ezio steps forward hesitantly, then triumphantly. "Already finished, are we?"  
Altaïr shakes his head and pretends the movement hurts. Which it kind of does, but he won't make that clear.  
His enemy's eyes flicker with satisfaction and he takes another steps. Soon he'll be within arms' reach...  
"Requiescat in-"  
Altaïr swings his arm out, aiming for Ezio's neck, but at the last moment, Ezio wrenches his body to the side.  
"I see how it is." Ezio calls, then launches on the attack.  
Altaïr has to defend himself from a whirlwind of flashing metal. His arms are getting tired, and he is incorporating the use of his feet more and more often.  
Not that that's working, but he'll take anything he can get.  
He scores a hit on Ezio, the Blade sinking into the leather brace on his forearm. His enemy yelps and steps back, momentarily dazed.  
Altaïr siezes the oppurtunity and brings his Blades up, bearing toward Ezio-  
He's been lured. His mind barely flashes with the revelation that Ezio really isn't dazed before he's kicked hard in the stomach and stumbles back.  
Altaïr groans and straightens out, ignoring the pain and fogginess trying to hinder his thoughts.  
"You'll pay for that," he snarls. His enemy doesn't even bat an eyelash as Altaïr attacks again, furiously-  
Ezio swings his Hidden Blade up and brings it down toward Altaïr's shoulder. He catches his wrist against Ezio's forearm and lowers his shoulder, barreling into his enemy.  
Ezio is thrown back, stumbles for a few yards, before finally tripping over a root and landing on his back.  
Altaïr wipes his mouth on the back of his wrist and walks forward steadily, dragging his feet through the leaves until his stands over Ezio.  
He engages his Hidden Blades and crouches by his enemy, who lies still, breathing hard. Ezio won't be fighting him again, at least not with the Hidden Blade. When he fell, he tried to catch himelf using his hands, but the Blade was still engaged, and bent on the impact of a rock.  
Ezio turns his head slowly and locks eyes with Altaïr as he lifts his Blade to Ezio's chest.  
"Rest in-"  
In one fast movement, so fast Altaïr doesn't even comprehend it, Ezio's arm shoots out, his hands curl around something on the ground, and there's the glimpse of steel. The last thing Altaïr sees is the sword bury itself in his heart, and Ezio's voice finishing his sentence.  
"-Pace, Altaïr."  
****

"Whoa," Desmond says.  
"Talk about a comeback." Rebecca whistles. "Alright, Desmond. Time to get you out of there."  
The window winks out, and Desmond opens his eyes, back in modern times again.  
"I can't believe Ezio won." Shaun says from the computer. "I was actually rooting for Altaïr."  
"How did he lose?" Rebecca asks.  
"Altaïr didn't see the sword. Remember when Ezio didn't want to kill an enemy when he wasn't able to defend himself? He threw his sword away." Desmond explains. "Turns out he fell right next to it, and it was covered with leaves- except for the hilt. Where's Dad?"  
"Went out to buy us some takeout." Shaun checks his watch. "It's nearly midnight."  
"I want to do that again." Desmond grins. "That was actually pretty cool."  
"Maybe later, after our overly-late dinner." Shaun replies. "In the meantime, how about we play Minesweeper?"


	2. Haytham V.S Shay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Madness: Thanks! :D

"Alright, come on, who've we got this time?" Desmond slides into the Animus and accesses the desktop before anyone can reply.  
"You don't have to be so rude." Shaun grumbles.  
"Oh, calm down, Shaun. This next one is about Shay and Haytham. Two Templars, actually." Rebecca quips. The window pops up into Desmond's view, and he frowns.  
"Wait, the last forest was in the middle of spring. This one is-"  
"Yeah, well, they're both used to frozen weather. Snow it is. Maybe if we get something going between Edward and Shay it'll be on a ship. So far it seems to still be stuck in a forest setting." Rebecca explains.  
"Can we start? This'll take a while." Shaun gripes.  
"Wait, wait, wait- I bet five bucks on Haytham." Desmond says.  
"Shay." Shaun counters.  
"I'm not getting involved," Rebecca says dryly. "Here we go...."

****  
Haytham stands perfectly still in the snow.  
The muscles of his right arm are tense, ready to spring into action and engage the Hidden Blade that resides there. He stands for several minutes, just looking, just observing, just preparing.  
A flicker of black catches his attention, and he slides his eyes to the left briefly. No use giving his enemy reason to think he's been spotted- then he'd risk being charged.  
Not that he can't jump out of the way if that does happen, but it's more sloppy.  
He doesn't like sloppy.  
This time the flicker of black is a full outline, although the color is dulled by frost caking it. A clear outline of a head- if he can score a headshot- he springs into motion and removes his pistol from its holster, firing at the outline before his enemy can comprehend.  
He misses.  
There's a loud curse and his enemy is suddenly charging him, teeth bared in anger.  
Haytham avoids the sword and knife points, flicking his wrist to activate his Hidden Blade. Ah, well. Just because the beginning is sloppy doesn't mean the rest of the fight has to go like that.  
Shay dives past and Haytham siezes the chance, kicking his enemy in the small of his back.  
Right away, Shay pulls himself back to his his feet, this time backing up a few paces. Haytham leers at him, to spur the man into fighting back.  
Shay takes the bait and hisses, lunging forward and swinging both of his weapons at the same time.  
He curses and has to practically prance backwards, fumbling to sheath his Hidden Blade and draw his sword.  
Once they're out, he regains his balance and takes the offense, battering Shay's arms and legs and landing small hits.  
He tries to use a skill Ziio taught him; listen to the environment, especially at lulls in the fight- it's better than looking around and taking your eyes off the enemy.  
And he does.  
When Shay finally draws away, Haytham listens through the sounds of their heavy panting and the wind. A little bit to his left- he can barely make it out- maybe a dozen yards, is a bubbling, rushing river. If he can find some way to push Shay into the water, he can easily win the fight while Shay is distracted with the cold.  
Haytham lifts his sword and beckons at Shay. "Are you waiting for an invitation?"  
"From the king himself." Shay spits. He launches at Haytham with renewed vigor, cutting and slashing and throwing in random curses whenever he's injured.  
Haytham lets Shay push him back, closer and closer to the river, then allows Shay's knife to sink into his knee. Not too bad, but enough that it's believable if he falls into the snow, cursing.  
He does just that, aware that his back is only a few inches from the water.  
Shay looks a little hesitant before sheathing his weapons and coming closer, activating his Hidden Blade.  
Haytham grits his teeth. A little closer, Shay....  
"Rest in p-"  
He lunges forward, wrapping one arm around Shay's chest and the other around his neck, then wrenches himself to the right, letting go of his enemy at the right moment.  
Shay yowls and slams against the ice, sending cracks spider-webbing for several yards.  
Haytham realizes his mistake; the part of the river that's making the noise is farther up to his left, hidden by the trees.  
It doesn't matter.  
He rises to his feet and limps back, meeting Shay's eyes as his enemy stares at him back, gaze filled with anger as he tries to scramble off the ice.  
"Your turn," Haytham says, and watches the ice give way.  
He watches the dark water for a moment, and then pretends he isn't startled when Shay grasps the riverbed rocks and pulls himself out, shaking violently.  
"You," he chokes out, "... are going to die."  
Haytham doesn't like attacking people at their weakest. It's not noble, not something his father taught him. But Shay just pulled himself out of a river for fuck's sake. If Haytham doesn't get rid of him now...  
He shakes his head. He'll win. He always does.  
\---  
Shay imagines his anger at Haytham is a fire, spreading from his chest to his arms and legs and warming his bones.  
Haytham must have reasoned sending him into the river would numb him. It kind of does, but this has happened more than once; by now, the cold doesn't do its job very well. The icy water's woken him up, made his senses more sharp.  
Haytham's eyes flickered with doubt when he drew himself from the water.  
Shay is a Templar who used to hunt Templars.  
He's used to the way both sides fight by now.  
Assassins are spontaneous, and exercise random techniques and tactics.  
Templars are more predictable, and their attacks are coordinated and precise, always considered and used and sometimes reused.  
Haytham is no different, except in one aspect.  
He employs the randomness of Assassins. He fights in the style of Templars, quick and direct and strong, but rather than come back to the same, boring old, attack, defense, trick, attack, defense, tricks, he uses them wildly. More attack, trick, defense, defense, trick, attack, trick.  
If he wants to win, he thinks, defending from Haytham's attacks, than he'll have to combine Assassin and Templar methods of fighting.  
A grin tugs at his lips.  
He jumps back, feeling the snow slip into his boots and further numb his feet. He's glad he can't feel his limbs shaking. It won't hurt if he gets cut, and it'll be easier to take minor risks.  
Haytham's slowing down. His breathing is ragged, and tired.  
Shay switches back and forth between Assassin and Templar methods. Sometimes he prances around Haytham, poking him with his sword. Sometimes he fights with brute force. He is an inch or two taller than Haytham- it's easier to knock him down.  
Or so he hopes.  
The switches between fighting styles is confusing his enemy. Haytham tries not to show it, but each time Shay refreshes his methods, it jolts him.  
And that's good, too. The cold is sapping the remaining strenght from Shay, and if he wins this battle, he'll be hacking up his lungs for a week.  
Haytham grimaces as Shay lands a hit on his ribs. The knife blade sinks into his clothes and stains the blue fabric with red.  
Then he jumps back, moving around Haytham in a constant circle, jumping in and poking him almost playfully.  
Well, it would be playful if it didn't draw blood.  
Haytham's eyes are starting to flash with a mixture of fear and fury. Clearly, not a man used to losing.  
With a roar of anger that Shay can't really hear through the shockingly cold water in his ears, Haytham charges forward, attacking with everything he's got.  
Shay defends his belly, holding his sword at an awkward angle, its point facing downward, and ignores the quaking of his arm. He brings up the hand holding the knife and slashes at Haytham's throat.  
His enemy jerks his head up, and the tip of the blade barely leaves a mark on his chin.  
Shay grits his clacking teeth together and stumbles back, leveling his sword and knife hastily in time to defend from another attack.  
Haytham is using his fear and anger to fight, now. Shay can see by his enemy's shaking that his energy reserves are spent.  
He forces Haytham up toward the trees, and charges him, until his enemy's back is up against a tree.  
The last of Haytham's energy is gone, and, almost easily, Shay knocks the sword out of his hand.  
Haytham sags against the tree, his breathing coming ragged. He'll have to make this fast, or Haytham's sluggish mind will remember he has a Hidden Blade.  
"Rest in peace."  
He brings the sword down quickly, then shakes the blood onto the snow and walks away, shivering.  
****

"Ha!" Shaun laughs. "You owe me five dollars!"  
Desmond shakes himself. "Whoa..... what the hell? How did Haytham loose that?"  
"I think I got it." Rebecca says. "They're both pretty young right? Shay has at this point spent most of his life fighting Templars. Haytham was being groomed to act as an Assassin, but never fully made it. So, he uses one of the methods he used from his father. Well, at this age Shay's so used to fighting both sides he can mix them together. Haytham is used to fighting guards and Assassins and wasn't expecting the shifting pattern."  
"Well, yeah, hang on." Desmond leaves the Animus and sits up, blinking. "Alright, Shaun. Five bucks or a coffee?"  
"Five bucks, you dolt. I make coffee in the Abstergo lobby, remember?" Shaun huffs.  
"I thought gambling or betting was a sin." Rebecca says.  
"You're a sin." Desmond retorts. He's hit in the face with an apple shortly afterword. Shaun laughs, until Desmond throws a coffee at him. The lid isn't screwed on tight enough.  
They erupt into arguments about sins and coffees and statistics until William arrives home and asks them what they're shouting at each other for.


End file.
